


Useful Advice

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Car Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, but not underage, hoorah for being eighteen!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes down to it, he has to take responsibility for the fact that he’s sneaking out at three AM on a Saturday to meet a man five years older than him in a parking lot.  He has a biology project due Tuesday morning and a history essay due the day afterwards but he’s putting them off in favor of getting fucked in the back of a classic car that smells like whiskey and leather.</p><p>Oddly enough, he’s pretty sure that Anna would be proud of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Useful Advice

**Author's Note:**

> So, even though this is the first new thing I've posted on this site since... April, I believe, I've actually been working on this for months. Yesterday, I got the inspiration I needed to finish it and I hope you lovely readers enjoy. xx.

The night air is strangely chilly for the time of year and when Castiel slips out of his bedroom window, he starts to shiver immediately. There’s a wind blowing through the neighborhood and he immediately regrets not grabbing a coat. But it’s too late to go back; even though he's practically become a master at the physical act, sneaking out is still difficult for him. He knows that if he goes back through his window, his conscience (which sounds an awful lot like his brother Michael) will get the best of him and he’ll simply go back to bed.

He can’t do that. There’s a man waiting for him and Castiel has never liked to keep anyone waiting. So he brings his shoulders closer to his ears, shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers and starts walking, peeking back every few seconds until he reaches the end of the block. Only then does he feel free to slow down his strides, to breathe easier. He has another ten minutes to walk until he reaches his destination and within seconds, his mind starts to wander, starts to deconstruct exactly how he ended up in his current situation. 

Truthfully, he could blame Anna for the whole thing and not feel _that_ bad about it. After all, she had been the one who had come home for the weekend, practically bursting with tales of her first few weeks at college. Some of them had been boring and some of them had been outright lies, concocted to tide over their parents. She’d saved the best stories for after midnight, when everyone else had gone to sleep and it was only her and Cas sitting in front of the muted television.

That was when Anna had told him that college boys were, without a doubt, “one of the best things God has ever created.” She really only had one reason for believing that: they were phenomenal in bed. Although Castiel really didn’t relish the mental image of his sister having sex, her words had stuck with him for some reason. Perhaps it was because the boys at his high school were, by and large, intolerant idiots. Perhaps it was because he knew that, even if there _had_ been a boy at his school that he'd wished to sleep with, it would have meant that the entire student body would find out about his sexuality. That was simply how things happened; word spread fast and although Castiel admittedly listened to the grapevine from time to time, he really didn’t want to hear word about himself on it. 

Perhaps it was none of those reasons. At the time, Castiel didn’t give it much thought. He was simply happy to have his sister back, even if it was only for a few days. When she returned to school, he threw himself back in his studying and forgot all about her advice. 

_Trust me Cas, don’t waste your time on those boys. Go after a man._

And then Spring Break and Dean Winchester came along and Anna's advice became very important. 

Truthfully, Castiel met Dean’s car first. He didn’t know much about the inner workings of vehicles but he knew enough about their aesthetics to recognize that the car parked on one of the streets that bordered the park he was sitting in was gorgeous. It was sleek, huge and black, a genuine classic. He’d been sitting at one of the splintery picnic tables with his sketch pad, waiting for inspiration to come and he’d just started sketching the car when a shadow fell over his paper. 

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” When Cas looked up, he felt his breath catch in his throat. The man standing over him was, for lack of more eloquent terms, stunning. The glare from the sun made it hard to tell what color his eyes were but Cas could make out his genuine smile and a few of the darker freckles on his face and he knew that he was done for. 

“Excuse me?”

“The car. She’s my baby. '67 Chevy Impala, if you’re wondering.” The man sat down beside him, peering at his rough sketch. “You an artist or something?”

“Hardly,” Cas snorted, closing the sketch pad. “I try to draw but I’m not that good. It’s peaceful, though. It helps me relax.” 

“C’mon, young guy like you, what you got to be stressed about?” Cas knew that it was strange to feel so comfortable around a total stranger but nonetheless, it was the truth. Now that he wasn’t staring into the sun, he could see that the stranger’s eyes were dazzlingly green, the irises flecked with hazel. There was at least two days of stubble on his face and Castiel suddenly had the urge to run his fingers over the man’s rough skin.

“I’ll tell you if you buy me lunch.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he immediately started to gather his things together, shoving them into his backpack.

“I’m sorry, that was forward of me. Forget I said anything.” He stood up and began to walk away, feeling his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Where you going?” The mystery man’s footsteps quickly caught up to his own and Castiel could feel his face getting even warmer. 

“I’m sorry I said that. It was rude of me and I’m going to go back home and try to forget that I embarrassed myself.”

“But if you do that, I can’t take you to lunch.” Castiel stopped and turned to face the man. He was an inch or so taller than him and he had to be a few years older, based on the fact that Castiel didn't recognize him from his high school. He was a sight to behold and Cas really didn’t think that this was anything but a cruel prank played by someone from his school but the man truly looked genuine in his offer. 

Besides, it was the last Spring Break he'd have as a high schooler. He had to do _something_ unexpected.

“Okay. We can go to lunch…” He let the words trail off, hoping that the man would understand what he was looking for.

“Dean.” The man stuck his hand out and when Castiel gripped it, he could feel calluses on Dean’s palm. He was sure that Anna would have been proud with how quickly his mind turned to the inappropriate.

“Castiel Milton.”

***

In the next three weeks, Castiel learned three major things.

1) Dean Winchester was a college student, studying to become a certified mechanic.

2) Apparently, college boys had a thing for high schoolers. Or at least Dean did.

3) Everything Anna had said about college boys being phenomenal in bed was right. 

***

So really, he concludes as he nears the end of the suburban streets, it’s at least partially Anna’s fault for getting him into the situation. But when it comes down to it, he has to take responsibility for the fact that he’s sneaking out at three AM on a Saturday to meet a man five years older than him in a parking lot. He has a biology project due Tuesday morning and a history essay due the day afterwards but he’s putting them off in favor of getting fucked in the back of a classic car that smells like whiskey and leather.

Oddly enough, he’s pretty sure that Anna would be proud of him.

He finally reaches the end of his neighborhood, where the identical houses turn into mile wide parking lots. The stores have been closed for hours but even from his vantage point, he can see a single car sitting underneath a lamp post. As soon as he steps from grass to pavement, his heart starts to beat a little faster. It gets worse the closer he gets. His footsteps echo off the ground, he can hear Dean’s classic rock playing in the car but the beating of his heart in his ears nearly drowns it all out. By the time he finally reaches the Impala, door creaking as he slides inside, he feels like he might pass out.

Thankfully, Dean is there to catch him, like he always is. Before they’ve even said a single word, Dean is pulling Cas across the seat, arm tucked around his back, slotting him against his side like a puzzle piece. He doesn’t do anything more for a few moments and Castiel is perfectly content to stay like that forever, his mouth and nose pressed against Dean’s shoulder, breathing in leather and cigarettes and Old Spice. Dean’s lips are on the top of his head, pressing kisses into his hair and Cas is pretty damn certain that if he somehow makes it into Heaven, this is what he’ll be greeted with. 

“Hey Cas,” Dean finally says, pulling away only as far as he needs to. “Anyone see you sneak out?”

“I don’t think so.” Dean grins at him and Cas feels his stomach drop in the most pleasant way possible.

“Then let’s get this show on the road. Sound good?” Cas nods and Dean drops a kiss on his temple before starting the Impala up and pulling out onto the road. The town may be nearly abandoned at three AM but it isn’t worth the risk of sticking around the parking lot and getting caught; Castiel's father is friends with half the cops, acquaintances with the other half. Much as he likes Dean, he wants to keep him a secret until he’s good and ready, which might not ever happen. 

They don’t speak. Dean drives, one arm thrown over Castiel’s shoulder, keeping him pulled against him. Led Zeppelin blares from the radio and Dean mouths along to it, his full lips moving in perfect sync with the music. All Cas can do is stare at him, bite back the urge to kiss Dean and wonder just how in the hell he managed to get him once, let alone keep him.

Dean finally pulls over in a corn field twenty minutes outside of town and before he switches off the radio, Cas can see that it’s three thirty in the morning. Then all the lights are off and Cas only has the moon to see Dean by; Dean, who is toeing off his boots and pressing his fingertips into Cas’ shoulder.

“Back seat, darling.” Dean’s voice has dropped even lower and the thought of what he’ll be saying in only a few moments has Cas swallowing heavily and clambering into the back seat of the Impala. Dean follows only seconds later, propping himself up on his arms, leather jacket dangling open. Cas reaches his hands inside of it, running his fingers down Dean’s chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his t-shirt. Dean groans and rests his forehead against Castiel’s, lips _so_ damn close.

“It’s been too long,” he whispers and even though it’s only been four days since they were last together (for a quick fumble behind the garage where Dean works), Cas completely agrees. He opens his mouth to say so but Dean has already closed the space between them, his mouth warm against Castiel's. Cas immediately responds, fingers gripping Dean’s jacket, pulling him closer and closer until there’s hardly air between them. He wraps his legs around Dean’s thighs, heels digging into the back of his knees and it still isn’t enough. Dean’s tongue swipes against his lips and while Cas lets it in, he pushes at Dean’s jacket until he gets the point. Dean sits up long enough to drop the jacket over the front seat and then he’s back, fingers tearing at the buttons on Castiel’s shirt. Cas knows that he’ll probably have to re-sew some of them again but that’s a problem for another place and another time. 

“Missed you, baby,” Dean pants against his lips, fingers finally getting Castiel’s shirt open, relentless nails scratching at his ribs and stomach. “You miss me?”

“Yes, Dean.” It’s all Cas can spit out because Dean is claiming his mouth again, biting his bottom lip, moving so fast that Cas can hardly keep up. He pulls away, tucking his face into Dean’s neck so that he can take a moment to breathe. Dean, on the other hand, doesn’t stop; his fingernails drag over Cas’ hips, pressing in where his pants meet his skin. Cas automatically arches and his cock pushes against Dean’s. Even through the multiple layers, the friction is enough to make him gasp and when Dean returns the action, Cas feels the tendons in his neck draw tight. 

“Dean, please…” Castiel can’t help but feel just the slightest bit pathetic. After all, they’re both still mostly clothed and Dean has barely touched him but he’s already begging him for something, anything. Thankfully, Dean is a kind man and he only chuckles, pulling Cas up so that he can pull off his already unbuttoned shirt and throw it into the front seat to join the leather jacket. While he’s sitting up, Cas pulls Dean’s shirt over his head as well and presses hard kisses against his collarbone and chest, letting his fingers map out Dean’s skin. Dean moans softly and lays his hand on the back of Cas’ head, petting his hair. 

“What do you want me to do, Cas?” he asks, nails digging into Cas’ scalp as he nips the thin skin covering his ribs. “Want me to fuck you? That what you want?” 

“Yes, Dean,” Cas says, groaning against Dean's ribs. “Want you so much, please.” 

“Patience, angel,” Dean murmurs but from the way he pushes Cas back into the seat and starts tearing at their belts, Cas feels like Dean has a hard time taking his own advice. When Dean pulls off Castiel’s trousers, he takes his boxers with them, tossing them both to the floor. The scratch of denim against his cock hurts (and not in the good way) and Cas immediately starts tearing at Dean’s jeans, their fingers getting tangled together as they both try and get his pants off. Eventually, Dean slaps his hands away and sits back onto his knees, getting his legs wrapped in the fabric before he finally banishes his pants to the front seat. Then he’s leaning back against the seat and pulling Castiel into his lap, skin to skin, cock to cock and there is no doubt in Castiel's mind that this is worth the lack of sleep.

“Good God Cas,” Dean groans, his voice against Castiel's neck, fingernails scratching against his hips. “Want you to ride me sweetheart, that sound good?” It takes Castiel a few moments to get his breath back; he doesn't think he'll ever get used to Dean calling him sweetheart or baby or angel, especially when he's murmuring it in his ear, voice like liquid sin. It makes his heart jump and his skin shiver and by the time he finally gets around to murmuring _yes Dean, please let me ride you_ , Dean's fingers have trailed behind his body and are teasing around his entrance. 

“There's lube and a condom in my pocket,” Cas manages to gasp, nodding his head towards where his trousers are bunched up on the floor of the Impala. Dean takes his mouth away from Castiel's collarbone (where he's left a sizable hickey) to stare up at Cas with what looks like admiration and full blown lust. 

“Well aren't you just a good boy,” he murmurs, leaning up to pull Cas into another breath-snatching kiss before grabbing for the pants. The sudden shift makes their cocks bump together and Castiel can't help the gasp that rips from his lungs. When Dean sits back up, the packet of lube between his fingers, he's smirking, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Where'd you even get this?” he asks, one hand lightly brushing down Castiel's stomach before he rips the package open and starts coating his fingers in it. 

“The nurses' office,” Castiel says, leaning up onto his knees, hardly able to get the words out in anticipation of what is about to happen. “I stole them both while she wasn't looking.” The last word is punctuated with a gasp as Dean slides his first finger in to the second knuckle. 

“Maybe you aren't such a good boy then,” he says, twisting his finger slowly, drawing it out almost entirely before pushing it back in. “I'm proud of you.” Dean stops talking and starts concentrating on leaving more hickies on Cas' chest, starting at his collarbone and nipping any bit of skin he can reach. Even though Cas misses Dean's voice the instant he stops talking, he's pretty damn pleased with how he chooses to use his mouth instead. By the time Dean works his way up to three fingers, Castiel is pretty sure that his chest is covered in purple bruises, sticky with saliva that will stay on his skin until he has a shower.

If it was possible for him to get even harder, that thought does it. He doesn't know what that says about him as a person but truth be told, he doesn't really care.

“Dean, please, don't make me wait any more,” he gasps, momentarily shocked at just how _needy_ he sounds. He remembers months ago, after dealing with another family dinner filled with freeloaders, he'd promised himself that he'd never beg anyone for anything and yet here he was, covered in sweat, begging a man to fuck him with stolen lube.

He's fallen so far. 

For a moment he feels swept away, completely helpless, overwhelmed by everything he's done but then Dean is whispering _shh, got you baby_ and pressing the head of his cock inside Castiel and Castiel decides that feeling out of control really isn't a bad thing. He's pretty sure that he's pressed his nails into Dean's shoulders hard enough to draw blood but Dean doesn't seem to mind it at all, based on the groan that comes from his lips when Cas lets himself sink down a little further. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to this feeling, of being filled up, of having someone who cares about him enough to fill him up and call him all sorts of wonderful names that he doesn't deserve. 

It's enough to give a man a major power trip and Cas knows that, if he were so inclined, he could completely exploit the power Dean gives him. But he never wants to do that, never wants to mistreat the man who, for some godforsaken reason, has deemed him worthy of everything he gives him. 

“Dean,” he breathes, sinking down further, his knees and thighs trembling with the strain of supporting him for so long. He shifts so that his toes are curled over the edge of the seat and, with one shaky breath, he sinks down the rest of the way, taking every inch of Dean's cock inside of him. Dean throws his head back against the seat, his forehead plastered with tiny pieces of hair and when Castiel pushes them aside with his lips, his mouth is filled with the taste of salt. 

“Fucking hell, Cas,” he says and he just sounds so wrecked that Castiel can't help but curse as well, the vulgar word feeling foreign on his tongue. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he whispers as Dean grips his ass in his calloused hands and thrusts upwards, hips nearly pinioning off of the leather seat. 

“That's my boy.” Between Dean thrusting his hips up and Castiel bringing his down, they set up a rhythm. As time slips by, the car fills with the sound of flesh on flesh and sure, Dean may say that Led Zeppelin are the best musicians of all time but Cas has to say that the sound of Dean's hips meeting his definitely wins out over rock music any day. Castiel tries to hold on to Dean's shoulders to assist in his movements but they're so slippery with saliva and sweat (and a little bit of blood, Castiel suspects) that it's impossible to hold on so he lets his hands roam, from Dean's beautiful neck to his hair to his face. When he's running his hand across the latter, Dean sucks his thumb into his mouth and Castiel feels a wave of heat run through his body, heading straight for his cock where it's rubbing against Dean's flat stomach. 

After he lets Cas' thumb drop from his mouth, Dean starts working on his collarbone again, tongue running over already formed bruises, eager on creating a few more. It's just on this side of pleasurable and Castiel arches his back and leans into it, hands skittering across the back of the seat, trying to find the angle that will make him lose his breath. 

“Someday Cas, we're gonna take our time with this,” Dean murmurs, the words punctuated by panting through saliva soaked lips. “One day, I'm gonna spread your legs and lick you until you're fucking begging for me, till I can slip in without even using my fingers.” The words become harder and harder to understand as Dean goes on but the message of them still hits Castiel. He can picture it perfectly in his head, can see himself with his legs up, Dean's head between them, his tongue pressing against him. He's ripped from his reverie by Dean hitting his prostate spot on and he becomes aware that he's so, _so_ close to coming. 

“Dean, may I?” he asks, nails digging into the leather for the purchase he desperately needs to keep moving his hips. 

“Fuck Cas, please, come for me,” he groans and Castiel can see that Dean's almost there himself, can see in the light of the moon (or maybe it's the rising sun) that his eyes are practically rolled back into his head. Without further adieu (because he knows Dean is waiting for him and he doesn't like to keep anyone waiting), he takes one of his hands off the seat and takes his cock, giving it only a few long strokes before he's coming, dripping onto his fingers and Dean's stomach. When he's finished, he rests his forehead against the top of Dean's head and lets his eyes fall closed.

“Dean,” he says, whimpering as his too-sensitive cock presses against Dean's stomach, “I don't want to go back home, wanna stay with you.” 

“God Cas, don't wanna take you home,” Dean growls, his breathes coming quicker and quicker. His fingers press harder into the back of Castiel's thighs and he knows he's going to have even more bruises to join the ones across his chest. Castiel tries his best to continue meeting Dean halfway, come-smeared hands pressed to Dean's chest and after only a few moments, Dean is spilling out curse words like they're going out of style. When Castiel sinks down all the way once again, Dean pulls him into a sloppy, open mouthed kiss, filled with tongues meeting and teeth clashing against each other. He knows that Dean's finished coming when he pulls away and lets his head drop against the seat, eyes closed, mouth open. For a few moments, all he can do is pant and Castiel stays with him, slumped against Dean's body. He can feel the come smeared between their bodies and he knows that he's going to have to have a shower as soon as he gets home and the chances of him getting any sleep now are minute but he doesn't care. 

Sleep is overrated.

Once Dean's breathing has gone back to normal and once Castiel regains enough energy to move, he raises up onto his knees and lets Dean slip out of him before flipping over to sit down beside him. He starts searching for his clothes while Dean rolls down the window and throws the condom into the field. Castiel can't help but think that some poor farmer is going to have a heart attack when he finds it but then Dean is leaning over to kiss him again and all thoughts of farmers leave his head. 

“Guess we better get you home,” he says, glancing outside at where the horizon is starting to lighten. 

“I suppose,” Castiel sighs, finding his boxers and sliding them on. They dress without speaking before getting out of the car and returning to their respective seats in the front. Castiel can feel the ache starting to begin in his back and his knees and his ass but he welcomes it. It serves as a reminder of Dean, even when the older man is across town and they can't see each other. 

When Dean turns the car on, the clock reads quarter to five in the morning. The tape deck resumes playing Led Zeppelin and Castiel scoots over to the center, resting his hand on Dean's thigh. Dean takes his eyes off the road for just a moment, just to smile at him, before putting his own hand on top of Castiel's. By the time Dean pulls in to the parking lot where they began their night, it's started to fill up with other cars, people getting ready to start their days. 

Castiel can't help but think that they don't know what they're missing. 

“When can I see you again?” he asks before he leaves, fingers tracing designs into the well worn denim of Dean's jeans. Dean grins and pulls Cas closer by the collar of his shirt, which doesn't serve to hide the highest of the hickies he left. 

“Whenever you want, darlin'. Just lemme know and I'll come get you.” He pulls Castiel practically into his lap to kiss him and Castiel can feel himself getting hard again, cock pressing against the thin fabric of his trousers. 

Lord have mercy. 

He waits until Dean has pulled out of the parking lot before beginning the walk home, his pants chafing awkwardly until his erection finally goes away. The sun is definitely above the horizon now and he knows that if he doesn't hurry, his father will be awake and there's no way he'll be able to successfully sneak into the house. He forces himself to walk as fast as he can, various aches notwithstanding, and he manages to get into the house, lock the front door once again and tiptoe into his room five minutes before he hears his father's alarm clock going off down the hallway. 

He can't help the grin that spreads across his face, knowing that he got away with it. He doesn't recognize what Dean has turned him into but, as he strips off his dirty clothes and falls into bed (shower be damned), he realizes that he likes it far more than he should.


End file.
